A Magic of Dawn

Varina ca’Pallo

“This won’t happen again,” Allesandra said, her voice full of concern and anger. She patted Varina’s hand. “I promise you.” Varina saw the woman glance at her bandaged head, and Varina reflexively lifted a hand to touch the bandage. The loose sleeve of her tashta slipped down her arm, revealing the brown-scabbed scrapes there. The bruises on her face, which she’d seen this morning while taking her bath, had turned purple and tan.

“Thank you, Kraljica,” Varina told her. “I appreciate your concern, and thank you for sending over your personal healer-her potion eased the headache quite well.”

Allesandra waved a hand in dismissal. The two women were seated in the sunroom of Varina’s house, alone except for the two attendants who had accompanied the Kraljica, standing silently by the door. This room had been Karl’s favorite in their house; he would often sit here, looking over old scrolls or writing down some of his own observations at the little table facing the small garden outside. His cane still leaned against the desk he’d used; Varina had left it there-seeing the familiar items made her feel as if he might walk into the room. “Ah, there’s my cane,” he would say. “I was wondering where I left that.. .”

But she wouldn’t ever hear that voice again. The thought brought tears shimmering in her eyes, though they didn’t fall. Through their wavering veil, Varina saw Allesandra lean forward. “You’re still in pain?”

“No.” Varina wiped at her eyes. “It’s… nothing. The sun in my eyes-though I suppose I shouldn’t complain. It’s good to finally see the sun again.”

“The thugs who attacked you have been executed.”

Varina nodded; it was not what she’d wanted-Karl had always said, and she believed herself-that harsh retribution only fed the anger in their enemies. But the news didn’t surprise her, and she found that she could summon little sympathy for them.

Sympathy? What sympathy did you have when you shot your attacker? That image remained with her still. She didn’t think she would ever forget it. Yet… She would do it again, if she had to, and the next time the act would be easier. She would protect herself if she must, and she would do that in whatever way she could-through magic or through technology. To her, they were no different: both were products of logic and thought and experimentation.

Magic and technology were the same, at the core.

The sparkwheel was in the drawer of Karl’s desk now, reloaded. She could almost feel its presence, could imagine the smell of the black sand.

Allesandra evidently attributed her silence to acquiescence. She nodded as if Varina had said something. “I spoke to A’Teni ca’Paim and told her how serious I consider this incident to be. I warned her that she must deal harshly with the Morellis in the ranks of her teni, and that I expected the Faith to continue to support the rights of the Numetodo, and not to return to preaching oppression and persecution.”

“With all due respect, Kraljica, that command needs to come from Archigos Karrol, not you or even A’Teni ca’Paim. I’m afraid the Archigos doesn’t share your enthusiasm for the Numetodo, and his distaste for the Morellis stems mostly from his fear that Nico Morel might actually have enough power take his place, not from any particular disagreement with their philosophy. In that, they seem rather aligned.”

A small moue of irritation flickered across Allesandra’s lips, but was quickly masked by a smile. “You’re right, of course, Varina. As usual. But it’s what I could do, and hopefully A’Teni ca’Paim agrees with me. So perhaps we can do some good.” She reached over to pat Varina’s hand again. “I should leave you to your recovery,” she said. “If you need anything, please let me know. We-the Holdings-will need the Numetodo, I’m afraid.”

“The Tehuantin?” Varina asked. “It’s true, then, the rumors-the Westlanders have returned?”

The single nod was all the answer Allesandra gave. It was enough. “I should go,” the Kraljica said, rising from her chair. “No, don’t get up. I can see myself out. Don’t forget-tell me if you need anything. The Holdings is in your debt for your service, and for Karl’s.” The attendants stirred, opening the door to the sunroom as Allesandra pressed a hand to Varina’s shoulder in passing and left. Varina heard her own servants bustling as the Kraljica moved down the hall toward the main door and her carriage. She heard the doors open, and the clattering of the horses’ hooves and steel-rimmed wheels on the drive’s cobbles.

She didn’t move. She stared at the windows and the garden, at the desk with Karl’s cane, at the ornate pull of the drawer where the sparkwheel was nestled.

The front door shut again. Her downstairs maid knocked softly on the door. “Do you need anything, A’Morce?”

“No, thank you, Sula,” Varina told her without looking at her. She heard the sunroom door close softly again. She felt the breeze of it, like a caress on her cheek.

“I miss you, Karl,” she said to the air. “I miss talking to you. I wonder what you would tell me to do now. I wish I could hear you.”

But there was no answer to that. There never would be.